Bri was heartbroken. The kid sported a broken nose for graduation.
Reilly studied Bri carefully. She didn’t direct her anger at any one person. Whenever Erin engaged her in conversation, she replied with a sad sort of smile. When one of the kitchen lasses brought the week’s menu to her for approval, she made a change, but was distantly pleasant to them when explaining it. No one else in the hall seemed to notice her, or perhaps they attributed her wrinkled nose and furrowed brow to her obvious hatred of sewing.
And when Nioclas walked in with Donovan, the pain flashed so quickly across her face he would’ve missed it, had he but blinked.
Fortunately for him, he didn’t bat an eye.
Nioclas stopped by the table, exchanged some words with Erin, then turned his attention to Brianagh. Her expression softened slightly, and after a moment, he smiled at her and continued on his way. Following him with her gaze, her eyes landed on Reilly as Nioclas passed him on his way to the steps. Bri held up two fingers, then tapped her wrist.
Two months left.
It was her destiny to stay here, but Brianagh had the ability to get back without Reilly, although he was fairly confident she didn’t know it. Reilly was certain, however, if she was bent on getting back to the future and thought he was the only one to get her there, she’d move hell and high water to track him down.
He had to make sure he was long gone before that time came. If she was going to mess things up, he didn’t want to be anywhere near it when fate came knocking at her door.
Chapter 18
Brianagh dragged herself up to her chamber, unwilling to watch Donovan and Erin any longer. It was embarrassing how they draped all over each other whenever they were together.
She opened the door to the guest chamber and froze at the sight of the steaming tub in the center of the room with a fire dancing in the fireplace. Glancing around, she saw no one. Taking a tentative step, she called out, but there wasn’t any reply.
She closed the door, then walked over and inhaled the scent wafting from the water. Lilacs…her favorite. That was strange—who could have procured lilacs in the middle of winter? She wasn’t even sure lilacs grew in Ireland. The door opened behind her and she shrieked, the linens flying from her hands as she spun around.
Nioclas held up his hands and took a step back. “I wanted to surprise you.”
“You did,” she replied, placing a hand over her racing heart. “Do you—?” She waved at the tub.
“I was told you enjoyed bathing with lilac oils,” Nioclas said carefully, gauging her reaction, “so I obtained some for you. This room is the only one big enough for this tub.”
“Oh,” she murmured taken aback. “Thank you. That was very nice.”
“We do many trades with Italy. That’s where the oil is made.” He rubbed his neck, then paused. “I know you’re anxious to return to your home. You seemed upset earlier, and Erin assured me that a bath would soothe you.”
Bri bit her lip. “Yes, a bath would be wonderful. Thank you, Nioclas. It was very sweet of you to think of the bath oil.”
“Entirely my pleasure, my lady. Enjoy your bath. I’ll send Iona in to help with your hair.” He bowed and shut the door behind him.
Bri wasted no time stripping and sinking into the bath, worried it might cool. Glancing around at the tapestries, bedding, and general opulence of the room, Bri had to admit she loved this chamber. The fire was cheery, perhaps because it illuminated the tapestries, which gave so much more color to everything. Her original chamber was gray—the stone wall, stone floor, and even the bedding.
Depressing.
But this chamber was completely opposite. It had been decorated with comfort in mind, and the small alcove had a window that, when she opened the shutter, let in a cleansing, icy wind. She imagined it would let in a glorious summer breeze off the ocean on just the right kind of day in July or August.
She’d been in the Middle Ages for almost an entire month. She wasn’t sure how the time continuum worked, but she hoped when she returned no one would even know she’d been gone.
And despite the overwhelming urge to blame Reilly and his meddling ways—she knew who dropped the bath oil hint in Nioclas’s ear—she knew the blame lay entirely at her own feet. Her own treacherous heart was not listening to her very rational mind, which continually chanted, Do not fall for him, it’s only a game.
When Iona entered the chamber, Bri put her thoughts aside and finished her bath.
• • •
Nioclas couldn’t hide his shock. It seemed his wife had been quite busy while he’d been about his business with the MacDermotts.
“All of them?” Aidan asked incredulously.
They were walking the perimeter of the outer wall, looking for any weaknesses in the stonework that needed tending. Nioclas had instructed his guardsmen to watch from the battlements rather than follow him around in a giant circle so their conversation wouldn’t be overheard. Upon learning that Donovan had news to impart, Nioclas thought it wise to keep all others at bay.
Donovan nodded, rubbing his hand on his forehead. “Most of them. The elders who were sleeping in the great hall each have a chamber for him and his wife. The very elderly have rooms all together, and she’s given tasks to a small group of women she calls nurses. Those women—the nurses—care for the elderly clansfolk. It’s their only duty to the castle.”
“By the saints,” Nioclas replied, bewildered.
Aidan gave a low whistle. “We never thought to do that, but think of what that could mean! We’ve always prided ourselves on our respect for the elders, and the elderly. She’s ensured their health needs are met, while providing them comfort and protection within the castle walls. Their children will see this and understand that if they leave our clan, they won’t find such treatment anywhere else. And instead of looking outside the clan to marry, they’d marry within it. Stay with the clan.”
“Grow the clan,” Donovan corrected. “It has long-reaching influences. Perhaps her intelligence is even more than O’Malley claims.”
“Perhaps,” Nioclas murmured, his mind reeling. “I wonder if the clan knows she did this on her own, without my knowledge.”
“I don’t trust her,” Donovan replied, “but if she continues to prove herself worthy of a laird, I could be persuaded to think otherwise.”
Nioclas shook his head. “I’ve told you many times, Maguire. She is no threat to me. She was held in my sire’s oubliette. I do not believe any woman would be willing to spend any amount of time in one of those, for any price.”
“Perhaps she is just a pawn in a larger game.”
“Perhaps.”
“Tell me that’s why you’re allowing O’Malley to stay,” Aidan said darkly. “I loathe that man.”
“He may be of use to you one day,” Nioclas said mildly, squatting to inspect a crack at the foundation of the east wall. He made a note on the parchment he carried. “O’Malley may be the enemy, but Bri trusts him completely. That alone warrants a careful look at his past.”
“What have you discovered?” Donovan asked.
“Little,” Nioclas admitted. “The MacDermotts had never heard of him, but the O’Malleys are a large clan. I’ve yet to have any scout return with any information about him. All have returned with the same story—he could be a part of the clan, he could be someone else entirely.”
“That’s a poorly-run clan,” Aidan muttered.
“The O’Malleys certainly won’t tell us anything directly,” Nioclas pointed out. “We’re not exactly allies.”
“We’re not exactly enemies, either,” Aidan shot back, “but this O’Malley may just change all that.”
“Is there anything else I should be aware of, before we return?” Nioclas asked, turning back to Donovan.
“The nurses are only the start of it. She’s appointed almost all the women in the castle to specific tasks, with one woman acting as chief to the task.” Donovan shrugged. “I noticed it first with the laundry. Two
women gathered the linens and clothing, two different women were washing them, and two more were hanging them to dry in the gardens. All of them informed the same woman of their progress for the day when they’d completed the task.”
“Very strange,” Nioclas murmured.
“Aye, but the results seem to be positive. I have not one flea in my bed, and my sweet lady wife is enamored with freshly washed linens each day. It seems like a waste of wash water.”
“Perhaps not,” Aidan replied, considering. “The wash water is poured into the basin each day, no matter if a single pair of hose needs cleaning or an entire castle full of bed linens. By washing all that they can find, that reduces the amount of water used over a longer period of time.”
“Fascinating.” Donovan shook his head. “How does she know to do these things?”
“I’ve no idea,” Nioclas replied, bemused. “But she did it all without my knowledge.”
“Are your wee wife’s demands bothering you?” Donovan teased. “To her credit, I haven’t seen any clan member just standing in the great hall.”
“Everyone seems to be doing something all the time,” Aidan agreed. “If you had to be saddled with a woman, you’re rather lucky fate saddled you with such as she.”
“Very,” Nioclas repeated, his thoughts jumbling in his head. A guardsman whistled, and he nodded briskly. “Back to the castle, lads. I’ve yet to tell you the news from MacDermott, and it involves swords.”
“It’s been too quiet around here,” Aidan said, bouncing on his heels. “I imagined the peace couldn’t last forever.”
“Nay,” Nioclas replied heavily. “It could not.”
• • •
“The castle is almost fully occupied now, and the laird is clearly taken with her to allow such nonsense.”
Burke wasn’t looking at the man directly. Instead, he was watching for anyone who may have followed him into the forest. He saw no one but wasn’t willing to take unnecessary risks, so he motioned for the fool to be silent, then led him deeper into the trees.
Speaking in hushed tones, Burke urged him to continue.
“She is often left by herself within the castle walls, or accompanied by Lady Maguire.” The man’s breath came out in icy puffs.
Burke swore. “Maguire stays at the castle?”
The man nodded, his eyes glittering. “Aye, he remains close to the laird. When Maguire is not with his wife, he ensures she’s followed by her personal guard, even within the castle. Lady MacWilliam is rarely with a guard when by herself, and she’s allowed to roam the inner bailey at will.”
“Has MacWilliam’s wife left the castle walls?” Burke demanded.
“Aye. Once, and with only Maguire and seven men,” he confirmed.
“Surprising that he’d allow his lady love to wander unescorted,” Burke mused.
“There are thoughts that she may be with child because of her changing moods.” He pursed his lips. “Sounds like nonsense to me.”
“I pay you for this nonsense,” Burke replied, tossing the man a few coins. “So continue.”
The man greedily scooped the coins off the damp forest floor, dropping some through his frozen fingers. When he’d finished gathering them, he grinned a nearly toothless smile. “The laird left for a few days, and the lady seemed to have a hard time with it. Never smiled, which made some of the elders look on her as the laird’s true love.” The man spat. “She’s probably just good in the—”
“And when does the laird plan to leave again?” Burke interrupted.
“Don’t know.” The man shrugged. “He just up and leaves when he wants, doesn’t tell us until he’s on his way out the gate.”
“And you’re just left to defend the castle? Who acts as laird?”
“Well, he left Maguire there last week,” the man replied, drawing his dark cloak tighter around himself to ward off the chill. “But he’s also got someone else in there. O’Malley, he says his name is, but there’s something off about the man. He and the lady can talk fast in a tongue I don’t know.”
Burke felt a flash of triumph. That was what he’d been waiting for, some nugget of information that the woman at the keep was, in fact, the missing O’Rourke daughter. The one with the ability to travel through time.
“This woman—Lady MacWilliam. She came to the castle, married your laird, and began changing your ways. Then, a man arrives, speaking a strange tongue, and he knows the lady?”
The man nodded at Burke’s summary. “Aye, all a bit strange. Some think she was put with us to protect her from something, but most of the clan thinks she’s a miracle, getting all these changes done and capturing the laird’s heart. To hear the women tell it, our laird was never getting himself married for fear that someone might come and kill his wife.”
“Oh, I don’t think anyone would want to kill her,” Burke replied. Not until she births a son with her same powers, he added silently. “You’ve been very helpful. If you provide me with the same kind of information when we next meet, your fee will double. Do you think it possible to bring Lady MacWilliam with you? I’d like to meet this woman who’s wrought such change in your castle.”
The man’s eyes widened. “But if I do that, she’s likely to tell MacWilliam we’ve met!”
Burke slid his dirk out from his belt and flashed it in the moonlight. “Do you want a new laird, lad? One who will give you the battle you crave? Or will you be content to live your sorry life in a wattle-and-daub house, sharpening your sword so that you may throw yourself upon it for shame of your battle skills?”
The man remained silent for so long Burke thought he might have to kill him now, which would throw his entire plan into jeopardy. Instead, he used the last reserves of his patience and said, “Three weeks from tonight, you’ll get your chance at battle. But you must get Lady MacWilliam to me, here, before you join with your new clan.”
The man nodded. “Tell me what you want me to do, my laird, and it shall be done.”
Chapter 19
Nioclas mindlessly removed the various weaponry from his belt and boots, placed them in the trunk that’d been moved from his old chamber to the new, and let his shoulders relax. It was good to be home.
The MacDermotts imparted grave news whilst he visited. There were rumors Kildare planned an attack on the MacWilliams for dishonor of his daughter. When passing through the Clanricards’ land, Nioclas heard the same rumor; he sent his two fastest men ahead to prepare his clansmen, in case the news proved true.
Nioclas wasn’t concerned, as his men were always prepared for battle. Donovan had sent for reinforcements almost immediately upon his and Aidan’s return that morning. Nioclas knew even the most loyal of Kildares would turn on their laird if someone better and stronger came along—many had already pledged their loyalty to the English crown and broken away from Kildare and his rule. The man was in trouble. It would’ve proved a very beneficial alliance to both clans had Nioclas followed through with the wedding. The Kildare clan was high in numbers but low in organization. If they had a laird to inspire them, they’d prove formidable, which is why Nioclas had agreed to the marriage of their daughter before the O’Rourkes dropped Brianagh into his life.
He smiled at the thought. He would be forever grateful to her for making this easier than it should be. Most women would demand much more from him—ribbons, gold, fine clothing. Nioclas had just pulled his tunic off when the chamber door opened and Brianagh entered. Her eyes widening, her hand fluttering to her chest, she let out a tiny gasp of surprise. “Nioclas! I didn’t think you’d be here.”
He gave her a look. “Where else would I be?”
She blushed. “Of course. This is your room now too. I’ll come back later.”
“No need,” he replied, sitting on the bed and unlacing his boots. “Stay. I’ve heard you’ve made some changes to our home whilst I’ve been away. Perhaps you want to tell me of them?”
“Are you angry?”
He pulled his boot off and held it for a m
oment as he considered. Anger wasn’t the right word, but he wasn’t exactly happy about it, either. He twisted around to face her fully, and was struck mute when he took in her entire appearance.
Much of her hair had escaped its coil at the nape of her neck, and a riot of curls caressed her face and shoulders. Her hands, clutched together in front of her, had smears of dirt mirroring those all over her simple woolen skirt. When she shifted nervously at his silence, he noticed the scuffs on her slippers. Her sleeve looked as though it had been torn but stitched up—and if his men’s rumors were true, she’d clearly stitched it herself.
In that instant, he saw the gift he’d been given. Selfish bastard that he was, he wasn’t all that sure he wanted to give it back.
“Did you tear your dress?” he asked softly, motioning to her sleeve.
She flushed a deep red. “Well, not on purpose. I was trying to move the table on the raised dais we sit on during dinner, and it got caught on a jagged piece of wood—”
“Why didn’t you have one of my men move the table?” Nioclas interrupted.
Her face said it all, but she replied anyway. “I didn’t think to ask. They were already so busy.”
He pulled his other boot off, then stepped toward her. “Men fear me.” At her blank stare, he took another step. “Women fear me as well.” She stood still as a stone. “Do you fear me, Brianagh?”
“No,” she whispered, searching his eyes.
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered again, mesmerized by his gaze.
“You should fear me,” he murmured, picking up a lock of her hair. “As my wife, I own you.”
His words sent a shiver down her spine, and it had nothing to do with fear. He gently twisted her hair around his hand, then slid his fingers out slowly, watching as she struggled to figure him out.
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